


Bit of Me Wanting a Bit of You

by JesterDala



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blowjobs, Consensual Underage Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Pre-Series, Pre-Stanford, Underage Sex, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-24
Packaged: 2018-04-11 01:49:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4416434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JesterDala/pseuds/JesterDala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So wait- Sam, his Sammy, little brother Sammy-</p><p>No, it couldn’t be.</p><p>Did Sammy- did Sammy have a crush on him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bit of Me Wanting a Bit of You

It took Dean almost all summer to put the pieces together.

It was an odd summer. They rolled into Bumfuck, Nevada in early June, hot on the trail of a disgruntled rusalka who was moving south along the Colorado River snatching up bachelors. John set them up in some low-rent dump and pretty much left the rest to Dean after that. He headed out a day after they arrived, leaving money for food and a promise to be back soon - “soon” meaning “however long it takes.”

School was out for the year and summer was really starting to make itself known. It sat like a hot fog on Sam and Dean’s shoulders slowing everything down. The house they were staying in didn't have central air, just a single air-conditioning unit in the kitchen window. Dean moved it to the living room the first night, the only place cool enough to be bearable, and that became their makeshift bedroom. But it was still not quite enough.

There wasn't much to do in town. There were maybe four dozen full blocks from one end of town to the other before nothing but desert stretched out for miles. Still, Dean thought Sam should be out at the movies or the local decade-old arcade or, hell, even the library. (This was Sammy, after all.) But instead he was hanging around the house most of the time, eating cereal for lunch while watching Dean work on the Impala and watching movies with him at night, stealing sips of Dean's beer when he pretended not to look.

It was easy just sitting around with Sammy, fighting off the heat with nothing but the little air-conditioner-that-could, but Dean wasn't so sure it was good for his little brother. Sam was getting antsy being around the house all the time. He'd wipe his palms nervously on his thighs sometimes when Dean came in from working on the Impala, sweat soaking his back and chest, grease smeared on his chin. When Dean caught him looking, he'd glance away, a flush high on his cheeks that Dean had to attribute to the heat.

That was strange. Dean was usually the one who got that itch under his skin when they stayed in one place too long, not Sammy. But Sam just couldn't seem to sit still. He looked like he was going to bust out of his skin half the time. When he wasn't sticking to Dean's side like a lost puppy, he was making excuses to get out of the room, take a shower or something.

It reminded Dean of that girl Danielle a few towns back who was always hanging around the gas station where he'd gotten a part time job. It was obvious that she wanted him, the way she'd come up with flimsy reasons to come around and brush up against him "accidentally". The only difference between her and Sammy is that she had no shame about it.

So wait- Sam, his Sammy, little brother Sammy-

No, it couldn’t be.

Did Sammy- did Sammy have a crush on him?

That would explain his constant hanging around, the way he'd crowd up against Dean on the couch when there was plenty of room at the other end, the way he always looked like a deer in headlights when Dean came into the living room after a shower, water still dripping down his neck past the collar of his shirt.

Huh.

Maybe it should feel weirder than it did. But it was innocent, right? Dean was Sam’s only constant, and Sam had always admired his big brother. It made sense that some of that affection might spill over into a crush. He was just at that age, with very few places to put those kind of feelings. Dean ignored the spark that set low in his belly.

Maybe it was that spark that made Dean think his next idea was a good one.

Sam was on the living room floor, back against the couch, slouched over a worn copy of Grimm’s Complete Fairy Tales. Sweat darkened the hair at the nape of his neck and behind his ears. His bangs were getting too long again, and he absentmindedly tossed his head to get them out of his eyes.

Dean sauntered over, stretching and making a big show of it. He arched his back purposefully so his shirt rode up, exposing a nicely tanned patch of skin.

Sam didn’t look up.

Dean yawned and stretched the sound out unnecessarily. Sam’s eyes stayed determinedly on the page, but his eyes weren’t scanning the words anymore.

Progress.

Circling the couch, Dean slouched down in the patchwork recliner directly across from it. If Sam looked up, he’d be looking right at Dean.

Perfect.

In one swift movement, Dean pulled off his shirt and whipped it at Sam’s face.

“Dean!” Sam started, voice catching in his throat.

Dean had been working outside on the car pretty solidly these last couple days, and his skin was more tanned than it had been in a long time. Dean kinda liked it. And Sam definitely seemed to like it judging by the look on his face. His eyes were caught on Dean’s chest, and Dean felt a surge of satisfaction that he was right. Sammy was crushing hard.

“What? You want me to bundle up? It’s too hot in here for that.”

The words seemed to jerk Sam back to himself. With some effort, he pulled his gaze back to the thick hardbound book in his lap, pointedly avoiding his brother.

“That doesn’t mean you have to strip down in the living room. Jesus.”

“Come on, Sammy, lighten up. I think the heat’s making you cranky. Take your shirt off.”

Sam’s eyes flicked up to Dean. “What?”

“Take your shirt off. You’re making me hot just looking at you.” 

Dean ignored how that may have sounded.

Sam shot him a glare. “No, I’m not taking my clothes off just because it makes you uncomfortable.”

“It’s not for me. It’s for you. You look like you’re burning up over there.”

And he did. Despite spending the afternoon in the air-conditioned living room, his shirt was still sticking to his back and tiny beads of sweat were gathered on his upper lip. Dean ignored the lurch in his gut when Sam licked them away, instead falling back on more familiar teasing.

“You embarrassed? Afraid you can’t measure up to this godly body?” Dean bent his arm and nodded at the muscles that formed. “Pretty nice, huh?”

“Oh, please.”

Dean didn't have a chance to even process what his brother was doing before 140 pounds of half-naked Sammy filled his view.

Sam had filled out in the past year, there was no missing that. Gone were the long, bony arms and the shallow impressions between ribs over his abdomen. Dean could see the muscles in Sam's stomach tighten as he leaned forward and the sprinkling of fine hairs trailing down his abdomen to-

"Happy now?" Sam's voice had an edge of defiance, but there was a glint in his eye. He held Dean's stare like he knew where his mind had been headed. Sam raised a brow. "Am I still making you too hot?" His hands were traveling over his lower belly, sliding dangerously toward to his crotch. "Maybe if I..."

His voice trailed off as his fingers found the button on his pants. It was like Dean was frozen in place as Sam slid the jeans down his legs.

"Shit, Sammy."

By all rights, Sam should look funny sitting with his legs spread open in nothing but faded old boxers and dirty socks, sweating like he'd just run a marathon. But instead the sight was doing strange things to Dean's body. His breath was coming heavy suddenly, and he was entirely too aware of how small the room was.

Sam seemed to hesitate for a moment, like he was unsure if he’d gone too far. Dean should stop this. He should take advantage of that hesitation, lean back and make a joke and push them back into the real world out of this crazy moment they'd tripped into. But then Sam was kneeling at his feet, hands sliding around the backs of Dean's calves.

It felt different than the other times they'd touched in their lives, those normal everyday touches that just happened. It wasn't a brush of arms during shooting practice or the pressure of one's head against the other's shoulder in the back seat of the Impala.

The intent was different, and Dean could feel it in Sam's fingers. It was rolling off of him in waves. He was pushing at this seam Dean hadn't known existed until this very moment. Maybe they had been pushing at it for months, years, and Dean never even realized. Maybe Sam was just the first to notice it.

At the moment, though, Sam was focused on more important things like getting his mouth on every part of Dean's chest he could. He pushed his brother back in the armchair and dragged a hand down his chest, scraping a nipple on the way down. Dean sucked in a breath at the shock of Sam's touch.

The sound seemed to please Sam who leaned in close. His breath was warm and brazen on Dean's neck, and even in the hot air, Dean shivered. Sam's latched on with his mouth and sucked. All the blood in Dean’s body rushed south. He shifted in his seat, the movement drawing Sam's attention downward. He let go, and his eyes ran over the bulge in Dean's pants before flicking up to meet his gaze.

"Dean," said Sam, surprise and a little bit of awe in his voice, like he couldn't believe he could elicit that kind of reaction from his brother.

"I don't-" Dean started to protest. But he didn't know what exactly he was protesting. He was caught between shoving Sam off him and dragging his brother's face down to his own. One of those feelings in particular was overpowering all other senses, and he was pretty sure it was the wrong one.

"Dean," repeated Sam, but it didn't seem like he was saying it for any reason in particular. He was just whispering, savoring the word like candy. He leaned down and got his fingers on the waistband of Dean's jeans and wrangled them down his legs. Dean's hips lifted reflexively. He'd been in this position plenty of times, and his body recognized that even if his brain was having a hard time catching up.

His body certainly wasn't unfamiliar with the feeling of a wet pair of lips circling around the head of his dick through his boxer briefs. His hips lifted again of their own accord. Sam grabbed hold of Dean's hips and pressed them back down. He tilted his head up and met Dean's eyes, asking without actually saying it out loud.

When Dean didn't say anything or push him away, just met his gaze steadily, Sam moved back down to continue.

"Wait."

Sam froze, color draining from his face. Clearly, he thought he pushed too far. He looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and God, he really was just a kid out of his depth. 

"Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean- I'm really sorry, I-"

Dean reached a hand out and cupped the back of Sam's neck, his thumb reaching forward to rest against his jaw. "No, that's not-" He closed his eyes against the sight of Sam on his knees between his legs and started over. "I don't mean stop, I just mean. You don't have to do this. You really don't have to do this."

A little color found its way back to Sam's face. "Do you want me to stop?" He sounded like he might be afraid of the answer.

"God," said Dean. He was barely surprised that he didn't have to think twice. "I don't. But I can't be the one making you do this, Sammy. I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to." The big brother instinct was too well ingrained in him. Protect Sammy above anything else. That has and always would come first.

"I want to." Sam rested his forehead against Dean's thigh. "You have no idea."

And there it was again, that flare of heat that blossomed behind Dean's rib cage knowing that he was the one that made Sam feel like that. That Sam wanted him.

Dean vaguely wondered if Sam felt that same thing in his own chest as he got back to work on Dean's briefs, carefully pulling them down to reveal Dean's aching hard on. It bobbed obscenely upward and Sam tracked it with his eyes, nothing less than impure hunger in his eyes.

And then he was on Dean's cock, sucking him down into the wet heat of his mouth. Dean gasped and curled over, hands grasping the back of Sam's head, not pushing, just cradling, almost like he'd done when Sam was a baby. And wasn't that just the sickest thought that had ever crossed his mind?

Fingers gripped Dean's hips as they gave little aborted thrusts into Sam's mouth. His tongue laved up and down, circling the swollen head. He was shamelessly moaning around the shaft, the vibrations pulling curses from Dean’s tight throat.

Sam was going at it like this was his only purpose in life. What he lacked in technique, he more than made up for in enthusiasm. Not only had he never given a blowjob before, he'd probably never received one either. But he was focused and breathing through his nose and trying so hard to please his big brother that Dean couldn't stand the sight along with the sensations, and he came without warning in the sweetest orgasm he’d ever had.

It took a moment to compose himself, but Dean came back to himself to the feel of little puffs of warm breath against his thigh. Sam's eyes were squeezed tight, and his hand was stripping his cock. The muscles in his stomach tightened suddenly, and white stripes shot across Dean's calf and the front of his chair.

“Sammy.” He whispered it like a prayer, like an apology and a promise. He reached out and touched Sam’s cheek, and his brother leaned into it. “Sammy.”

Beads of sweat were dripping down both their faces at this point, and Dean blinked them away from his eyes. His focus was on making sure Sam was okay after everything, that he wasn’t going to have a major moral breakdown in this hothouse of a living room.

“We can’t do that again,” Sam said finally, “until we get another air conditioner. I can’t deal with this heat. I feel like I’m swimming in my own sweat.”

Dean almost laughed in relief. He sank to the floor and found himself tangled with Sam, sticky limbs entwining, sweat cooling as they stopped moving. It was still unbearably hot, but Dean thought that maybe melting into Sam right here wouldn’t really be all that bad.


End file.
